#Only to catch wind at some point that the boy's just palling around at summer camp and not doing evil anymore

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Thinking about Care Bears (as one does at 32), and anyway, I think it would've been really funny if Dark Heart was No Heart's son, and the main reason No Heart started going after the Care Bears was because they converted his kid to friendship and caring and all that stuff.

[cometeclipsewriting]

Strowlers

Season 1: Episode 1

Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Summary: In a world where magic is both real and illegal, a librarian tries to help protect a young girl discovering her powers, while her girlfriend makes a device that helps to find unregistered magic users.

Full video episode can be found for free here!

You want the truth? I think the old magic found it’s way back into our world in a dream.

Just a dream. Nothing more.

***

A typical grey Seattle sky spread unbroken over the Yesler Branch of the Seattle Public Library. Birds sang in the trees of the old neighborhood, plants green and lush from moderate summer rains. From the early morning quiet, a young woman strode up the brick walkway of the library, dancing slightly to music playing through her headphones. She bopped and swayed as she paused. Coming strong or weak, stand and face your equal, and we’ll turn this world around. SJ Tucker was a goddess.

Whit smiled as she moved to the new album her girlfriend had surprised her with. Amanda didn’t always get her taste, but she made the effort to try. Even though it was Amanda’s big week. Her presentation should be starting any time now. Whit made a face, a bad taste growing in her mouth at just the thought of A.R.C. That soulless organization. Thankfully Amanda wasn’t like the Preceptors; she was a beloved professor and a skilled researcher.

Shaking away her pall, Whit pulled her silver compact from her backpack, checking herself. Her bright yellow beanie rested on her tight ringlets and small braids, framing an oval face. Only a little eyeliner and mascara used to enhance the dark brown of her eyes and scattered little moles. In the circle of the mirror, her smile was hidden, reflected eyes serious and masked. This was her ritual, she supposed. With a snap she closed the compact and slipped it back into place. Collected and settled, she walked up the steps to the library.

“Hey, Pepper,” Whit flashed a smile to her boss, the small woman already at work behind her computer. “Where should I start today?” She slipped into her shared desk space, quickly logging in. Their desks were in the entrance to the open foyer, Pepper’s lovely smile and incredible depth of knowledge ready to aid any knowledge seekers. Whit had been a librarian for a while, but she fully acknowledged that she had a long way to go to catch up to Pepper’s knowledge.

Pepper straightened, her bangle bracelet clinking softly as she brushed her hair from her face. “Hey, sugar.” Her smile lit up her timeless beauty with a welcoming glow. “Maybe get the holds started?”

“Sure thing,” Whit slipped her badge over her head, fluffing her hair out from under the lanyard and started towards the task.

“Oh,” Pepper pulled her attention back, “You still want to take the first story time today?”

Whit smiled crookedly and reached down into her backpack and pulled out a worn book, the binding fraying and pages well loved. Another gift from Amanda, from when they had first started dating. A lucky and rare find from Twice Sold Tales, she had been told. “Got it covered.” Reading aloud was one of Whit’s favorite jobs at the library, she almost always volunteered to adopt silly voices and encourage the kids to play. Plus, she and the regulars had been slowly working their way through the unusual collection encased within the pages.

“Fairy tales,” Pepper’s blue eyes went distant for a moment, a memory taking her away. Whit always bit back the urge to ask where she went in these moments. Pepper certainly had more wisdom, more history, than anyone she had met before. But she never asked; delving into other’s lives wasn’t something she did. They might want to return the favor.

Pepper’s smile broadened again, eyes crinkling in genuine warmth. “Always an excellent choice. Children always need some truth in their world.”

Whit nodded and faked a smile, turning to get to work. Very seldomly were fairy tales truth. She would have magic if it were.

“The Goldfinch and the Magic Mirror.” Whit sat on the floor of the second level, holding up a book to display the detailed illustrations to the gathered children, reading aloud in a dramatic voice. “A bird catcher’s daughter was checking traps along a stream and found a goldfinch ensnared. As the girl was about to drop the bird into her bag, it spoke. ‘Human child, show me mercy. My family will starve if I can’t fly home to feed them.’”

The children were entranced, eyes trained on the librarian, mouths slightly parted in concentration to reveal missing and pre-braces teeth. Their wriggles of childhood were settled into crossed legs, one little girl held her bracelets over her eyes, imagination glasses to better see the story unfolding. Parents sat in comfortable chairs around the outside of the circle, listening in relaxed detachment.

“’Free me, and I will show you a secret wonder.’” Whit paused her narrative and looked at the children, lifting an eyebrow in question. “Should she do it?”

Immediately hands shot up, waving in eagerness to be picked for such an important task. Whit suppressed the smile that tried to break through, keeping to the gravity of the moment. She pointed to one of the little boys in front, “Omar.”

His grin grew bigger, and he nodded emphatically, “Yes!”

“Really?” Whit drew out the word, “Do you all think she should do it?” Chimes of mostly agreement came from the diverse little crowd, but there was one who shook her head in a silent no.

Whit whispered mysteriously, “Let’s see.” She turned back to the old book. “The girl was very curious and loved to have secrets to keep from her sisters.” A few giggles from sympathetic siblings floated through the air. “So, she let the bird go. Away it flew, as fast as it could, deep into the forest. ‘Wait!’ the girl cried, ‘wait for me!’ The bird fluttered from oak to elm, and the forest grew dark and menacing.”

Unseen to all but one pair of young eyes, the library started to darken, a purple mist creeping into life around the sitting storyteller and her audience. “A wind rose and chilled the girl’s skin,” leaves rolled down the aisles of books, their rustling unheard except for by little ears. “And in the distance, she could hear the howl of wolves.” Shadows of branches moved along the ceiling, chilling howls underlying Whit’s voice.

Whit continued on, adopting a frightened tone, “Oh little goldfinch, I-I’m scared. I wanna go home.” An indigo light highlighted the young face, her only betrayal of her ability to see the forest from the story was in the flickering of wary eyes. She slowly took in the new surroundings and to the children bound by the magic of the story. Omar in particular; his eyes fixated on the book. “The bird stopped and looked at her, its eyes dark and cold. ‘How can I show you wonder if you are afraid of the forest,’ it said.”

To the girl, they were no longer in the library building. Bookshelves faded into the depths of a forest, becoming more translucent with each passing word. The carpet melted into leaves and twigs, little mysterious lights flickering and heavy shadows moving in the distance. Yet none of the others saw what she did.

Whit’s voice deepened in urgency, “’You must run now, night is falling, and the wolves are on the hunt!’”

***

The clinical beep of machines was the loudest noise in the sterile room. A man, his antiseptic clothing inline with the room, was strapped into a specialized chair. Chest, wrists and ankles bound tight. On either side of his temples, the machine waited.

The man sat patiently, anticipation and trepidation mixing as he awaited the next step of his career. It was finally time for his Focusing. Rubber clad hands went to the metal collar around Recruit 291’s neck, the locking mechanism opening for the technician, and she removed it for the first time since it had been put on.

Immediately his magic was released, exploding from suppressed energy into all the rooms surrounding him. Monitors fizzled, warnings displayed of the danger of the psychodynamic breach. But it was expected, the facilities built for just such occurrences, and the technician continued with her work.

“Oh god,” he whispered, fear and awe roiling. A smile vied with terror, eyes flickering around the scenery his magic transported to him. A forest, deep and varied, with life and secrets. His throat caught, the fear leaving him as he knew it again. Knew the magic. No more theoretical study of his power, no more memories of what it had been like before the collar had been placed on him. Now he saw it, felt it down to his soul.

Joy and sorrow rose twofold. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered through his trembling smile, tears springing to his eyes. And knew that he would never feel either duality again.

Separated by a mirror in an adjoining room, two men in A.R.C. suits stood motionless. Dispassionately, they observed the emotional man, feeling the energy strain from him and cause the high-tech electronics to crackle and blink. The smaller of the two looked to his senior to decide how to handle the situation.

Behind both, a woman stood back against the wall, uncomfortable and slightly frightened. But she made no sound, mute as she observed the path her future would lead her to. She touched slightly trembling fingers to her lips and breathed deeply.

Decisively, the senior member reached out towards the window, his hand making a grasping motion in the air. On the other side of the glass, the magic faded until only a little sphere remained as the arcanologist exerted control over it. The suppression was enough to snap Recruit 291 out of his emotions. He calmed, still watching what was revealed before him.  “I see a door opening,” he panted, concentrating. “A forest. A library. It’s all the library.”

The technician came back to him, a mouthguard in hand, protection for the procedure he is about to go through. His emotions got the better of him, the importance of what he saw making him struggle with his confinement, pushing himself as far from her as possible. His determined gaze locked onto the man suppressing his chaotic magic. “Director Rodrigo. It’s a Level Five anomaly. At the Yessler library.”

No hint of reaction crossed the Preceptor’s face nor pulled at the scars at his temples. He remained as he was, hand held out. But the woman behind him blanched, her skin paling even more. And around her throat, her utilitarian collar blinked rhythmically blue.

The smaller man, Director Rodrigo, pulled out an old-fashioned walkie, calmly relaying the message. “Code 37. Yessler library.”

In the room, Recruit 291 calmed, accepted the mouthguard and his future.

***

A few short minutes later, men in SWAT gear, rifles at the ready marched into the library. The white logo of A.R.C. was stamped onto the black of their left shoulder. Leading the team, an arcanologist strode in boldly, his uniform proclaiming to everyone who he was. An Enforcer. A witchhunter. He halted between the front desks, an intimidation tactic with his armed men. Behind the desk, one of Whit’s coworkers froze, terror on his face, and he shrunk down into his chair. Silence followed them; everyone knew to stay out of A.R.C.’s way. But Pepper stood instead, noiselessly watching as the arcanologist took a moment, waiting for something. The feel of magic being worked. A moment later he caught it, and he slowly looked up to the second level, arching a finger towards the ceiling. His men moved out, bringing rifles to their shoulders and quietly moving towards the stairs. An overweight cop tried to blend with the group, his hand on his gun. He was there for protocol, supposedly the higher authority, but everyone knew that A.R.C. were the ones who were really in control. The Enforcer swept wide, eyes creeping dispassionately over Pepper, his scars stark on sallow temples, and dismissed her, falling in with his team.

Upstairs, Whit continued to read from her fairy tales, “The girl ran and ran, but the bird flew further ahead of her.”

Pepper’s worried expression followed the last of the team disappear around the curve of the stairs. She looked to her employee, saw his terrified state, and she slipped from behind her desk to follow their path.

“Now she could hear the wolves making tracks ever closer, swift and strong.”

The policeman now had his weapon out as well, the armed members of the A.R.C. team crouched and stealthy as they slipped down the aisles of books, heading towards Whit’s voice. And the Enforcer strode forward confidently, he could feel the magical energy of the one they were coming to find.

Pepper slowly ascended the stairs, making sure to stay out of sight, slipping along the shelves she loved. She knew, repeatedly knew, that this would not end happily. She needed to be close by.

“Suddenly,” Whit continued oblivious to the approach, “she broke into a clearing, and there in the very center was the goldfinch, perched on the rim of a small golden mirror.”

To the girl listening, she could see the other children around her, could see Whit and the illustrations of the book. And the forest, the forest spreading wide around them, everyone else disappearing from their sphere. She didn’t know anyone was approaching. Didn’t know that there was someone who could feel the energy of her magic.

“Having sympathy for the girl’s plight, the bird whispered, ‘The wolves only want your body, not your soul.’”

“GET ON THE GROUND!” One of the men shouted at the gathered children, rifle aimed at them.

Immediate chaos exploded. The carefully balanced magic exploded in fragments, as uncontrolled as children's screams. Some fell to the ground, terrified. Others raced to their parents, throwing themselves into arms that had protected them in the past. “Hands above your head!” Lights flickered and popped, wind rustled, and a girl dashed into one of the side aisles, dropping to hide behind the scant protection.

Whit whirled around on her knees, throwing her arms out wide to block as many kids as possible, trying to figure out just what was happening. Behind her Omar sat up still, his hands held in the air in the universal sign of innocence. “Get on the ground!” The armed man screamed at Whit again, his gun right in her face. Cries filled the library, and Whit dropped down to her stomach, frantically trying to see all the A.R.C. team at once.

Another armed man moved behind Omar, his gun pointed to the lower back of the child. Omar sat frozen still, hands held rigid, magical energy crackling wildly around him. He couldn’t move, bound in terror, in the effects of uncontrolled magic. Frightened, he stared unseeing ahead of him.

This was when the Enforcer stepped forward, fanatical eyes trained on the little black boy. He lifted his hand, splayed his fingers, and Omar dropped, unconscious, to sprawl on the ground.

Pepper crawled further down the aisle she had slipped along and was able to make eye contact with Whit. She silently mouthed, “What did you do?”

Whit shook her head slightly, lifting one flattened palm slightly in a motion of rejection. She hadn’t done anything. No one had done anything. There hadn’t been any magic, nothing strange had happened. No reason for arcanologists to be here… right?

Out of the corner of her eye, a flash made her look to the side. A leaf?

She frowned, and then focused past it. Peeking out behind a little gap in the bookshelves, just over the top of the books, her eyes connected with another’s. Scared eyes, young, dark. They locked gazes for a quick moment, but Whit looked away, not giving a clue that there was something of interest to be investigated. Hopefully she hadn’t given anything away.

The girl knew she had to keep hiding. She could still feel the remnants of her magic, tried to hold it and suppress it. They would find her if she didn’t control it, hide it. A breeze ruffled her hair, sucked more leaves away from her. Slowly, inexorably, she looked to where she was being drawn. There it was. There He was. Full of power and magic.

A boy, fair blond hair in a haphazard cut fell over delicate features. His knowing, cocky grin was echoed in the casual way he leaned against the shelves, out in the open, one foot crossed over the other. He knew that no one else would be able to see him. He had no need to hide. Tattered leggings and a leather vest adorned his slim frame, a mysterious pouch hung on his hip. She swallowed. There was something about him she instinctively knew. He was not of this world. His smile grew just a hint wider.

In the cluster of prone bodies, the Enforcer nodded slightly to the police officer, the man looking far out of his depth. He accepted the illusion of leadership, now that the Enforcer had given it to him, and gestured to the unconscious Omar. “Collar him,” he said as he put his gun away.

The man who had continued to train his rifle on the boy now stepped forward, pulled a temporary collar from his pocket, and carelessly lifted Omar’s head to slip it under his neck.

Incensed, Whit looked up at the two leaders, “What are you doing?” She demanded. Another of the team reached down and pulled her badge out, checking her credentials. He grabbed her by the jacket shoulder, hauling her up just as the other locked Omar’s restraint collar into place, twin red lights burning on.

Anger boiled in Whit’s veins. She had to do something. They were going to take Omar; she knew the stories. She glanced around, looking for something, anything… and realized she somehow was still holding onto her book of fairy tales.

She kicked her chin up, raising the book into the air as the man still held her roughly in place. “Need some fuel for your next book burning, gentlemen?” She forced her sarcasm and anger into the words, belligerent. Maybe they would forget about Omar if she angered them enough.

It certainly got their attention. The cop and Enforcer both made some sort of gesture, and the man holding her pushed her forward. She would be going with them.